Westwood Blue
by Soul's Companion
Summary: "Jasmine wasn't sure where 'there' was in all honesty, but if Jim was there, then that was all she wanted. He'd sort it out. He'd make the pain go away." No one ever said that Moriarty was incapable of love, especially when it came to giving his heart to Jasmine. Moriarty/OC
1. Chapter One: We Want London

**A/N: So, new story, new OC and my first ever Sherlock fanfiction! Let me know what you think by reviewing because it makes me write the next chapters quicker for all of you. Enjoy, follow, favourite and review!**

The first punch grazed Jasmine's chin, the man's knuckles whispering over her skin. However, she noticed too late that it had no force or true meaning behind it until the second punch, delivered to her stomach, had doubled her over and expelled the last bit of oxygen from her chest.

It was a heck of a shot. Besides having the wind knocked from her, which she always hated, Jasmine noticed a fair amount of pain with the gunshot that had nicked her shoulder, which was something she wasn't used to. A hit to the face, yes, or even to the kidney, but the stomach punch shouldn't have been much more than discomfort, if that.

Fortunately for her, Jasmine was used to it all. Being the fianceé of London's most dangerous criminal had prepared her for the worst and how to deal with it. She expected the violence and pain that came along with being an obvious target and weakness of Moriarty. But that didn't mean she had to take it.

Jasmine straightened up, eyes flashing darkly towards the large man in front of her. His cotton black t-shirt strained against the quivering mass of pure muscle and strength that were his upper arms and chest. It was hard to tell what he truly looked like in the poor lighting of the alleyway, but from what she could tell, the man had the stereotypical look of a thug.

He had dark, set eyes that were far back in his skull, a three-day stubble that littered his chin and a shaven head that had been recently cut. He looked no older than 40, although the wrinkles and deep lines that canvased the man's face said otherwise.

Jasmine tasted the unmistakable flavour of salty rust, as blood trickled from her nose and onto her lips.

"Heard about the recent engagement, Mrs Moriarty. Congratulations." The man sneered, shifting his weight onto his back leg whilst crossing his arms. The heavy smirk that settled on the man's lips made Jasmine flood with rage.

However, she didn't respond. She simply wiped her nose with the back of her hand and clenched her fists to refrain from beating his face into a bloody pulp. The man went to open his mouth again, another acidic retort on his tongue, until he was cut off by the shrill ringing of Jasmine's mobile phone. She stiffened slightly, fingers twitching to answer it out of habit.

_Please don't be him. Please don't be him._

"Aren't you going to answer that, princess?" The large man asked in condescending tone, tilting his head to the right in fake curiosity. Jasmine glared at him for a few seconds, anger swishing violently through her veins, before reaching into her pockets and retrieving her phone.

Never taking her eyes off the man, Jasmine hit the answer button and pressed the mobile to her ear.

"Where the bloody hell are you, Jas? You were meant to meet the Boss fifteen minutes ago." The whiskey-roughened voice of Sebastian Moran drifted through the phone and into her hearing with an annoyance that calmed her.

Jasmine sighed in relief. Thank goodness it wasn't him. It was impossible to lie to Jim's face, nevermind over the phone and if he knew what was happening.. She honestly didn't know what he would do.

"Well, I would of met with him earlier, if I hadn't been jumped by this gigantic airhead that likes to play with his fists too much." Jasmine growled down the phone, frustration coursing through her body, as a sharp thudding began to knock on her temples. The other side of the line was silent for a few seconds and Jasmine briefly wondered what Moran was thinking.

A loud and long string of expletives echoed through the phone, making Jasmine cringe and pull the phone away from her ear until he was finished.

"You hurt?" The two words were barely restrained with anger, virtually spat through the speaker with acidic intent. Jasmine knew that Sebastian would be clutching the trigger of his favourite pistol right about now, finger itching to aim and pull it at the man she was talking about.

The man in the alleyway glanced over to Jasmine, flickering his gaze over her face before snorting and re-directing his gaze. The incessant pounding in her head, chest and face had doubled now as the adrenaline began to wear off. Jasmine groaned, hovering a hand over her head, unsure on where to put it.

Sebastian inhaled sharply over the line, knowing what the answer was straight away. Jasmine wasn't one to complain when she felt pain, so her voicing her hurt, made Moran deduce the worst.

"I'm on my way. Where are you?" Moran's voice was flat and demanding, leaving no room for anything but information and the truth. Jasmine looked up onto the side of the alleyway, spotting the faint outline of a street sign bolted onto the brick.

Peering through the dark, she read the name and opened her mouth to answer him.

"I'm at-" But, before she could finish, a sudden body shot to her ribs sent shocking ripples of pain through her torso and left Jasmine breathless. She didn't fall—she made absolutely sure she did not fall—but the concrete ground looked extremeley inviting to fall upon.

"Jasmine? What's going-" The man wrenched the mobile from Jasmine's hand, dropping it onto the tarmac and stamping a heavy boot onto it until plastic and glass shards was all that remained.

"You'll have to fight this battle on your own, Mrs Moriarty. Never will a war between your side and mine be so great. So pay close attention." The man grabbed hold of Jasmine's chin tightly with thick fingers, hissing with fury as her head lolled to the side in lethargic action. He shook her slightly, his other hand wrapping tightly around her throat, until an imprint of his hand formed on her skin.

"Who- are- you?" Jasmine choked out, a misty fog drifting over her mind, as her supply of oxygen began to run low.

"It doesn't matter who we are! What matters is what we want and what we will do to get it!" The man roared, flecks of spit landing lightly on Jasmine's face, a lot like rain, as her full lips, began to tinge blue. Her vision shifted slightly, colours and lines blurring into one another until it was barely distinguishable between either.

"We want London. We desire to own the entire city, just like Mr Moriarty does. He is in our way, he is our opposition. Get him to back down or we will. Do you understand?" Jasmine grapsed the man's wrist weakly, barely being able to hear him over the ringing in her ears that blurred into white noise. The man simply tightened his grip on her neck, dragging her close until she could feel the hotness of his breath on her lips.

"Do you understand?" Jasmine nodded imperceptibly, darkness colouring the edges of her mind, until he let go.

Well, not let go, as much as being forced to.

A gunshot rang out into the air and for a split second, Jasmine feared that he had shot her out of spiteness of his own desires. But, thankfully, the hand around her throat slackened and then disappeared completely as the man was wrenched violently away from her in one smooth movement.

Jasmine hurtled towards the ground, the man's hand no longer support in keeping her upright. Air whipped her hair wildly around her face as she approached the tarmac. Out of nowhere, two strong hands wrapped themselves firmly around her forearms, stopping gravity and her pursuit to the concrete.

A rough voice swore heavily, as she fell limp in their hands, legs giving out from underneath her in one swift pull.

"The Boss is going to kill me." The voice muttered angrily, pulling Jasmine gently along and towards the alleyway entrance.

"Sebastian. You found me." Jasmine murmured, a thankful smile stretching across her lips, lifting her bruised cheeks up slightly. She winced and tried to regain purchase of her legs as Moran's familiar car came into view.

"Course I found you, Jas. Can you imagine if I came back without you? Boss would make me into shoes." Sebastian chuckled lowly, opening the passenger side of the car and sitting Jasmine gently into the leather seat. Blood trickled from her nose, shoulder and lip onto the cream seat covers, but Moran didn't care. He had found her.

_Thank the Lord. _

Another wave of crimson liquid spilled out from her shoulder, the gunshot nick deeper than Jasmine had originally thought. She was now aware of every cut, bruise and scratch that she had endured whilst she was fighting and it _hurt._ Everytime she swallowed, pain throbbed through the entirety of her throat, the bruises the man had left, doing their job of causing her pain.

"Just stay awake. We'll be there in no time."

Jasmine wasn't sure where 'there' was in all honesty, but if Jim was there, then that was all she wanted. He'd sort it out. He'd make the pain go away.

But, as the car started up and pulled away from the pavement, Jasmine couldn't help but think how he'd react once he would see her like this.


	2. Chapter Two: Moriarty's Promise

Jim Moriarty glanced up from the deep, clotted cream rug and into the eyes of his latest client with a childish reluctance. As soon as the man had walked through the door, Moriarty had already noted what kind of man he was. Not the kind Jim preferred the company of.

_Sweating brow, eyes flickering around the room, licking lips._

A nervous man. Unhidden fear- clearly incapable of keeping his emotions under control.

_Mark on left index finger._

Recently divorced. Due to his lack of control in the emotional department? Unlikely. Women seem to prefer a man in check of his feelings. Red ring where the wedding band had been worked off- several affairs lied to both the wife and mistress, by pretending he was at work and unmarried. This made him an unreliable man, struggling to tell the truth on a daily basis.

Verdict?

A dishonest and selfish client who becomes too emotionally attached to petty and ridiculous things such as the fifteen year old tie and a pair of worn in shoes he was currently wearing.

Likelihood that Moriarty would help with problem of getting back his wife?

Zero.

Jim had more important matters at hand.

Moriarty rolled his eyes and leant back against the leather Chesterfield sofa, throwing an arm across the back and settling into the refined arm rest with one, fluid movement. The man before him faltered slightly, eyes glassing up with terror, before he continued in his tirade of pointless sentiment and reason.

Jim's gaze flickered to the clock above the fireplace, his lips tugging down at the corners and a faint frown line appearing in between his eyebrows.

_Where was she?_

The only reason he had bothered to even entertain this man's trivial problem was because Jasmine hadn't arrived at 7 o'clock like she had promised the previous night. Moriarty's fingers drummed against the leather, the simple wedding ring catching the lamp's soft glow, interrupting the man's flow of words for the third time.

Moriarty gestured for him to continue with an uninterested wave of his hand, before flipping out his phone with an impatient tug.

_Where was she?!_

Anger simmered slowly through Jim's veins, indignation at being stood up by his own fiancée creasing a scowl against his normally composed face. Resentment settled into his chest, making his fingers flex into a fist as he watched the clock tick away the minutes she was supposed to be spending with him. Vexation suddenly turned into pure possessiveness and fury, clawing up his throat and singeing the ends of his nerves with a speed that rivaled Moran's timing of assembling a gun.

_What if she was with another man? _

Jim drew in a jagged breath between his clenched teeth, shoulders tensing until he was wound like a coil, about to spring if someone so much as touched him. He imagined Jasmine's lips sliding over another's, her finger baring another wedding ring..

"Mr Moriarty?" The feeble man choked out, eyes wide and frightened behind the small circular glasses he wore. Moriarty was vaguely aware that he shaking slightly, fists so clenched and tight that his skin was stretched white against the bones of his hands.

Jim blinked once.

Then he was suddenly in front of the man, hand wrapped tightly around his throat, fingers digging into the skin of the client's neck. The man flailed, hands coming up and wrapping around Moriarty's wrist, trying to tug him off with a weak twitch of his fingers.

_Pathetic._

Jim leant into the man, his rageful face barely an inch from the pale and sweating man's one.

"You do realise who I am and what I will do to you if you so much as speak another word?" Moriarty's voice was soft and deadly, his Irish accent carving the words with spiteful intent, the malice behind each syllable only amplified by his original tone.

The man nodded quickly and clumsily, his head jerking forward once before Jim unwrapped his hand from his throat, allowing the man to slump forward and splutter tearfully, a sob working its way up his vocals.

Moriarty span on his heel, straightening the blazer of his Westwood suit, ignoring the client's hurried exit from the room. For a few seconds, Jim stood still and held his tense posture, fury crashing over his eyes like a tsunami of hatred.

The ticks of the clock were suddenly drowned out by the familiar purr of Sebastian's car pulling up in the driveway. Jim snapped his head to the door of the room, eyes narrowing dangerously before pushing his shoulders back and stalking out of his office, threats and demands swilling around his mouth.

* * *

Jasmine stumbled out of the car, dizziness and vertigo crashing over her like a freight train that had just slammed into her head at full force. The throbbing in her temples was more insistent than before, a constant pounding that just wouldn't relent. She groaned, blood coating her teeth with a crimson curtain of liquid before she spat it out on the gravel, the bitter taste sliding back into her throat.

Sebastian appeared by her right side, hand wrapping gently around her forearm before tugging her towards the house. She swayed on the spot, stubbornness of walking there herself filling her mind, before allowing Sebastian to take her to wherever the hell they were going. As they approached the front door, the grip Moran had on her arm tightened slightly before disappearing completely.

Jasmine looked up and Sebastian grinned weakly.

"Can't have Boss seeing me touching you, Jas. He'd kill me."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he had already opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open with a booted foot, a look of reassurance lining his signature smirk.

Jasmine braced herself for what would probably be the first time she would see her fiancée completely and utterly lose it. Her face remained pale, but she hardened her gaze and covered the pain up in one transition before stepping through the doorway and into the foyer.

The temperature in the house was cool, barely a difference between the inside and outside which Jasmine had come to expect. She always knew Jim preferred the cold, so she put up with it for his sake. The front door slammed shut as Sebastian came to stand beside her, his large build seeming to shrink Jasmine even more than usual.

_Or maybe she was just hunched over._

Jasmine raised her gaze from the carpet, to see the familiar sight of Jim's Tanino Crisci Lilian leather shoes appear at the top of the stairs. Jasmine's eyes snapped straight back down to the floor as she sucked in a breath, anxiety gnawing in her chest until it throbbed with tension.

There was a long pause.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Moriarty's voice whipped out, ice cold and sharp, as his steps echoed through the house, determination and fury behind each step he took.

Jasmine pressed her lips together, the split in her lip pulsing as she did so. Jim took another 5 steps and then stopped.

He must of reached the bottom.

"Answer me, Jas-" He abruptly cut himself off and the silence that fell upon on the room was deafening. She heard him take a sharp intake of breath and her heart thumped against her ribs.

_He'd noticed._ _Oh Lord, have mercy on me._

Jasmine didn't see or hear him move, but a second later, his cool fingers were lifting up her chin with a gentle movement. Her eyes, the bluish-steel of a midwinter, met his rich soil gaze with a long drag. His hard and frozen eyes gave nothing away, as they flickered across her face, raking over the blood and bruises that had been spread and spattered across her cheeks.

He blinked slowly, before moving on to her neck, the ring of violet and onyx stark against her skin. This time he froze, the tension working its way through every muscle in his body, as he continued to stare at the bruise.

Shoulders hunched. Eyes tightened. Lips pursed.

She knew the signs.

Jasmine shifted slightly on her feet, a wave of dizziness crashing over her, blurring everything within her vision for a split second, as she tried to think back to a time where she had seen him this wound up.

Jim's eyes snapped up to hers, holding her gaze with the molten coffee orbs that she had stared into many times before. His eyes were probing, pressing down into hers with a force of emotions that Jasmine almost staggered underneath.

The world shifted on its side slightly, everything tipping at an angle before she realised that it was just her. Moriarty's eyes flashed briefly, but he rapidly concealed what he had felt with the same layer of ice that he looked at everything with.

His long fingers left her chin as he stepped closer, closing what little distance was between them with one step. His 5"8 figure towered over Jasmine's and she had to tilt her head back to continue looking at his face. The position was awkward and it made her neck twist with pain, as she tried to decipher his emotions and peel back the mask he had placed on her face.

The silence still lingered and Jasmine didn't dare to open her mouth, nevermind speak. Something about his neutral expression unnerved her and she couldn't help but think that he enjoyed seeing her like this.

Broken and defeated.

Moriarty's eyes shifted suddenly, like someone had flicked the light switch on in a dark room and it took all Jasmine's will to not step back.

"Don't you _ever_ think that." Jim hissed, his Irish accent low and harsh, acidic with each letter and he spat out with a fury that made Jasmine swallow in fear.

_How could he do that?_

_How could he just know what she was thinking?_

The lack of talking was stifling and Jasmine swore she could have cut the atmosphere with a butter knife.

Moriarty's eyes softened slightly, the burnt umber irises swirling with sepia and copper, becoming liquid and molten until she felt like she was drowning in them. Jim lifted his hand, brushing back a few strands of hair that fell in the front of her face with a gentleness that surprised Jasmine. The back of his hand brushed lightly against her cheek, swiping over the tender flesh and crusted blood with one touch. She couldn't help but flinch, as the reminder of the man's meaty fist came crashing down on her.

Moriarty's hand dropped from her face like Jasmine's feverish skin had burnt him. The slight widening of his eyes and the brief flash of surprise that crossed them was enough to make Jasmine's heart to stutter and drop. That flinch had told Jim enough.

_Another man had hit her._

_Somebody out there had laid a hand on her and now she was hurt and in pain. _

_He hadn't be there to stop it and now she was bleeding.._

Moriarty swallowed roughly, raising his gaze to look at Moran, noticing the blood that had soaked his shirt.

_No obvious injury on Moran, but that is too much blood for just the bruises and beating that Jasmine had received. Unless.._

Moriarty's head snapped down violently, eyes roving madly over her body, his hands landing harshly onto her upper forearms and squeezing them tightly.

"Show me." Jim demanded flatly, a growl working its way up from low in his chest and throat. Jasmine gasped in shock and fear, as his grip on her arms tightened enough to leave bruises. He yanked her closer towards him, until she was pulled flush against him.

Jasmine felt each line and muscle of his front pressed against her own as his fresh and crisp breath washed over her lips. Their mouths were mere inches apart and Jasmine cursed herself for being distracted by them.

"Tell me _now_!" Moriarty roared, his Irish accent more pronounced than ever, his forehead pressing against Jasmine's until she was dizzy with the familiar scent of Acqua Di Parma Cologne that she had come to love.

He shook her violently, his palms pressing down to the bone, until Jasmine cried out, a single tear rolling down her cheek with graceful intent. She cursed herself for being so weak, for ruling underneath pain's command. Jim would be disappointed.

The silence was back again.

"Tell you what, Jim?" Jasmine asked softly, trying to ignore his stare as he traced the path of the tear with his molten eyes. The hands on her arms lifted suddenly, relieving the pressure that had built up in her muscles.

Moriarty swallowed, his chest lurching slightly at the sight of that single tear that had fallen from Jasmine. The unfamiliar feeling of guilt settled over his wildly beating heart, until it cushioned the pounding of it against his ribs.

"Where you've been shot." The tone was soft and lilting, gentle yet demanding and the weight that had settled over her chest just simply lifted.

_Jim was helping._

_Jim was making it okay._

_Jim was taking the pain away._

Jasmine was silent for a while, blinking a few times as the sense of content washed over her.

_He'd fix it._

_Jim would protect her._

Suddenly, a gentle hand touched her cheek, breaking her out of her thoughts. She leant into it and the palm supported her head. Jasmine glanced up and Jim's face swam into view, blurring slightly at the edges.

Concern creased the corner of his eyes and a look of worry shot over his features. Jasmine was vaguely aware that his lips were moving, mouthing letters into words but she didn't understand them.

_What was he saying?_

Just for a second, for a minuscule of a minute, panic darted across Jim's face before the commanding and authoritative mask fell into place. Moriarty let go of her cheek and Jasmine instantly missed the contact that had soothed her.

Long fingers wrapped around her wrist, sliding into place with practiced ease, and Jasmine just knew that Jim was taking her pulse. Her heart pounded sluggishly at the thought of his concern and she tried to push past the fogginess in her mind and comfort him.

Jasmine heard vague demands being barked out from Jim, commanding Moran as he always did. But, this time it was different. Something about his tone was more harsh, sharper and definitely not as cool and collected as it usually was. His voice cut through the buzzing of her ears and that's when Jasmine knew she'd be alright.

_Jim always protected her. _

"You're going to be okay, Jas. I promise." Moriarty's smooth, Irish voice entered her right ear, his lips touching the outer edge and his warm breath brushing over it.

Jasmine knew she was going to be alright and that was the last thing she thought as the darkness swallowed her up.

**A/N: Please review and let me know whether Moriarty was in character or not!**


	3. Chapter Three: Browning L9A1

**A/N: Just want to thank Swim Until You Can't See Land for the mention in the author's note of the story called Rumpelstiltskin which is Moriarty/OC as well! Please continue to favourite, follow and review- they make me write quicker!;-)**

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own any of the recognizable Sherlock plots, characters, speech or locations.

"_You're going to be okay, Jas. I promise."_ It wasn't often that Jim Moriarty made promises; in fact he rather detested them in all fairness. How was easing someone's fears by your own judgement any consolation to the vulnerable? If you broke them, you were unreliable and if you kept them, it deemed you a better person. Where was the sense in that?

Moriarty drummed his fingers against his Westwood clad knee, darkened gaze drifting to the ceiling where Jasmine was vacating, unconscious and wrapped up in the silken sheets of their shared bed. Jim shifted in the armchair that he currently occupied, a thrum of protective instinct working its way into the muscles of his chest and back, tightening with every breath.

With nothing but the company of his own presence, Jim's thoughts strayed to the previous night, his sharp eyes and flawless memory recounting every passing second since he had laid his gaze on Jasmine.

The crimson crust of blood that surrounded her shapely lips and nose, the dark ring around her neck coloured Byzantium purple and Prussian blue. Each and every single scratch, cut and bruise was accounted for, stored away in Jim's mind under the label of "_What I never wish to see again_."

Moriarty's fingers stopped their motion, as the mattress above him shifted on its wooden base.

_Go back to sleep, darling. _

The noise only lasted a few more seconds before cutting off completely, a slight breath of relief and disappointment escaping Jim's parted lips. The longer she remained asleep, the longer he would have to wait before he could find out who had even dared lay a finger on her.

_When he learnt who had done this.. _

A dark, sinister smile stretched across Moriarty's face, twisting his features into a malicious mask. It was the kind of grin he got when things had gone a little too far and a little too close to home, when Jim lost himself within the dangerous and unpredictable side that threatened to overtake his calm and collected exterior.

It wasn't often it appeared on his face. In fact, the only times it ever did was when it concerned Jasmine and her safety. Worse, were the lengths he went to, to remove any threat that could endanger her.

The familiar sound of Moran's heavy boots clunked against the wooden floorboards of downstairs, breaking Moriarty out of his cynical thoughts and back into the present. Sebastian slipped through the doorway, face hard, back straight, eyes refusing to meet Jim's.

For the several years that Moran had worked for Moriarty, this was the first and only time Sebastian was one hundred percent sure he would be killed. Not at the hands of a gang member or sniper, but by his own employer- the man who never dirtied his hands with the death and destruction that was part of his life.

But, he should have been expecting it. He knew he should have. How else could of he possibly screwed up? Protecting Moriarty's fiancée was the worst job he could have possibly undertaken.

_Money makes us all do stupid things__._

As Moriarty gracefully straightened up and fixed the cufflinks on his white shirt sleeves, Moran couldn't help but think that his Boss was an exception.

Money didn't make Moriarty do stupid things.

Love did.

Jasmine woke with a start, the muffled sound of bone hitting flesh entering her hearing with a quiet volume. Luxurious sheets wrapped around Jasmine's bruised body, the soft silk kissing her injuries with gentle affection until she could only feel the linen and nothing else. The sound resonated through the room again, louder than before, a muted groan accompanying it.

Jasmine flinched, a small bubble of fear working its way up her throat, catching her breath along the way.

_Was that Jim's sound of pain? _

Jasmine swung her legs over the side of the bed, ripping away the covers in one movement, urgency coursing through her veins. As she stood up jerkily, her shoulder and ribs screaming in agony, but all she could think of was getting to Jim and making sure he was okay.

Jasmine whipped up one of her fiancée's discarded shirts, hands shaking with adrenaline and fear as she tried to button it up. Her fingers fumbled with the thin discs of plastic, only managing to slot the bottom three through the holes before she gave up.

All rational thoughts of her own safety and recovery escaped Jasmine's mind in a sweep, as another groan of discomfort worked its way through the floor. Stumbling to her bedside with one wide step, she yanked open the drawer that held the one thing Jim had demanded that she carry everywhere.

_A Browning L9A1._

Jasmine's hand closed around the cold metal casing of the handle, a shot of decision bolting its way up through her arm.

_Just breathe._

She would be no good to Jim if she was shaking and fearful, she had to be strong and set.

_Show no weakness._

Nodding to herself, Jasmine straightened her shoulders back and exited the room, the bottom of Jim's shirt brushing the middle of her thigh with a loving touch.

She descended the stairs with confident steps, bare feet sinking into the cream carpet. Despite Jasmine's resolve to remain fearless, the tell-tales signs of trepidation had already begun to set in.

_Clammy palms, pursed lips, dry mouth, rapid breaths, tensed muscles_- she knew the symptoms of fear.

The repetitive sound of grunting was louder now, more pronounced as Jasmine reached the bottom step. Her hand tightened around the handle, her finger twitched over the metal trigger, as she began to stalk over to first door that was slightly ajar.

Jasmine breathed in deeply, the faint smell of Jim's cologne giving her the confidence she needed to carry on.

_Do what you've been taught._

_Stick with surprise._

Bracing herself and straightening up, she raised her foot and kicked forward; the force of the hit sending the door smashing into the adjacent wall with an almighty crash.

The groans suddenly ceased to exist, cutting off immediately by the sound of rustling material and thump of someone hitting the wooden floor. Jasmine stepped forward swiftly, gun upright and straight, gaze darting around the room, soaking in every detail with one graze of her eyes.

She noticed Jim first, donned in his royal Westwood blue suit, tie straightened to perfection and his t-shirt crisp and white. There was a faint spattering of blood on his collar, spraying slightly onto the curve of his neck. Unease tugged at Jasmine's stomach, as she catalogued his face for injury.

But it was how she always remembered it to be.

Angular cheekbones, strong jaw-line, slight stubble surrounding his shaped lips, hair styled in his classic way and those eyes..

Gosh, how she could drown in those dark orbs and die a happy woman.

They were currently locked onto her, wide and for a change, surprised. His mouth was parted in shock, gaze flickering to the gun and then raking over her, seeking a problem or injury, cataloguing everything he could in three seconds flat.

_Slight tremor in right hand, hair clinging onto forehead, teeth tugging on her bottom lip. _

_Fear._

_She was scared._

She could see his mind whirring, connecting the dots and making those brilliant deductions that she so loved to hear.

Jasmine yanked her gaze off her fiancée and onto the man that was situated on the floor.

Moran was slumped against the wall, blood spilling from his bust bottom lip and off-set nose. There was a slight nick on the left hand side of his face, the distinct shape of a ring patterning his cheekbones. His eyes were wide, attentive and sharp, gun already settled into his palm, ignoring everything else except for the threat of staring down the barrel of another gun.

Having a gun pointed in her direction made Jasmine feel a deep sense of panic and terror, her mind filling with the sight of a loaded chamber and nothing else. She could see the steadiness of Moran's hand, the way he held it with such confidence and ease, only proving to her that he had done this before.

"Jasmine, point that the other way." Sebastian's voice was deep and demanding, the instruction flowing from his mouth, a steady stream of command and reason.

Jasmine blinked, vaguely wondering why her hand wasn't moving, why it wasn't lowering the gun away from Moran.

"Moran. You talk to her that way again and I will rip your tongue out of your mouth and feed it to you." Jim's voice was calm and soft, his Irish accent soothing the fear within her chest and melting away the icy anxiety that thudded against her ribs. His voice was enough to send a spark down her arm and allow her limbs to catch up with her speeding brain.

Jasmine jerked the gun down, clicking off the safety with a flick of her thumb. Moran slumped further down and did the same, slipping it down the waistband of his dark jeans in one smooth go.

Moriarty crouched down next to Sebastian, dark eyes scanning him briefly before leaning in forward until they were inches apart.

"If you _ever_ point a gun in her direction again or so much as move a hand to- I will kill you. Understood?" Jim's voice was no nonsense, demanding and flat, eyes flashing with rage before switching back to his mask of indifference.

Sebastian nodded once, wincing slightly when his neck tweaked the cuts on his skin.

Jasmine bit her lip, the protective edge of Moriarty making her flush with an odd sense of appreciation and want.

_Good god when he got all possessive.._

Jim straightened up in a flash, eyes leaving Moran to meet Jasmine's gaze. The edges of his lips quirked up, eyes flashing heatedly, a knowing look spreading over his features. For a second, he was all she could see and he grinned a little wider, raising his hand and brushing it across his light stubble in an attempt to further grab her attention.

_It worked._

Jim's eyes flickered to her lips and the way her teeth chewed the flesh before scanning her hunched shoulders and the tightness around her eyes. Suddenly, his demeanour changed to rage and then switched back to calm in the blink of Jasmine's eye, but she still noticed and the moment they both shared was over.

"Moran. Contact our supplier for the explosives that I ordered yesterday and make sure he delivers it. If he doesn't, dispose of him and find me someone else who can get me what I want." Jim's eyes never left Jasmine's as he continued to talk to Sebastian like he was in front of him.

"Either you get back into bed yourself or I will force you into it. My self control only goes so far and you dressed in _my_ shirt is severely testing that. I'll bring up some painkillers after I've finished dealing with Moran and don't bother trying to argue, Jas, I know you're in pain." Moriarty's eyes were deep and dark, swirling with a mixture of desire and anger, as his lilting voice softened the words into persuasive tones and syllables.

Jasmine bit her lip, noticing the tightening of Moriarty's jaw, as he looked away from her face.

"Go. Now." Jim growled, turning his back on her, the tensed muscles beneath his suit jacket only serving to fuel Jasmine to exit.

There was a fine line between passion and rage.

Jasmine wasn't sure what Jim was feeling.

He was so changeable.

**A/N: Not much action but there will definetley be more dialogue in the next chapter as well as a LOT more romance between Jasmine and Moriarty. This story has started just before The Great Game, so did any of you notice the references?;-) Jasmine will meet Sherlock and John as well, so we'll be converting back to the canon world and incorporating a little of my own. I mean, who did attack Jasmine?;-)**

**Please review!**


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